Harry Potter & The Hand God

Harry Potter is both the root of every one of Blaise Zabini’s problems and the very reason he lives at all. He would not be alienated from his House, nor his family, if he had not chose to sit with him that day in first year. No. Before that, really, was when that choice was made; when he saw Harry’s heart, dedicated helplessly to him, and decided that he was to embrace rather than reject it.

Where would he be now, if he hadn’t made the decision he did? He doesn’t know. Maybe he would be another Draco Malfoy, another Pansy Parkinson, right hand men to Tom Riddle, the very man he now detests. Maybe he would look back and regret and maybe he wouldn’t.

And now, having made that choice, having no regrets about it… where would he be if Harry abandons him? If Blaise hurts him and no kisses or rosary can fix the gap torn between them? If Harry’s final punishment, simple and repulsive, is distance? 

Where would he be?

Who would he be? A part of his mind and heart will always belong to Harry. Harry, who said exactly what he needed to hear as a third year, unsure of himself and his indeed. Harry, who he spends all time he can with.

Harry, who made the poorest choice of all. Involving himself with Tom Riddle. Loving him. It is close to tragedy. 

Blaise thinks that if one day Harry woke up with silly ideas of a revolution, somehow founded in power and influence far too heavy for a child to carry, and declares he is leaving Hogwarts, Blaise would have no choice but to follow. What would he be left with here, in Hogwarts? Neville is kind, Hermione caring, Ron funny, yes, yes, yes, and they are his friends -- but Harry’s the glue that holds them all together. He would leave them in a heartbeat if Harry did, too.

And if Harry fails to wake up one day… If his curtains stay shut a little too long, if when pulled back they reveal a pale face, eyes glassy and skin pale, throat slit, and his chest no longer leaking the warm and red-green soul that previously sat there?

Then Blaise, what would he do? What can he do? It is ridiculous, the notion that the world would keep spinning, the sun keep rising, when Harry can no longer rise with it. How ever would Blaise carry himself?

He doesn’t know.

So he tries, futilely, at times, to keep Harry some semblance of alive. He knows Harry has other people to rely on -- has another lover, other friends, all whom he cherishes deeply, would fight die and kill for -- and that if Blaise died, the world would not end. He would suffer. For a while, he would suffer. And then he would live, because he still has people to live for.

Blaise does not resent him for it. It is hard to, when that is the version of Harry he fell in love with in the first place. But it is not a sentiment Blaise shares. They are not so much “co-dependent” as Blaise is “dependent.”

When Tom sits with that, those weeks ago, Blaise knows deeply that if there is any time to protect Harry, it is now. The threat on his life is surely here -- and it’s not in the form of slit throats. This is a different kind of danger. It’s not a snake, risen and coiled, but one concealed in the long grass.

Tom Riddle, much like his heart, black and void, used to be, sucks all the life and color of those around him and has them thanking him for it. And Harry, Harry has a lot of color to suck. 

Bless his heart, Blaise loves him, but Harry doesn’t see what he does. Harry is now twisted and wrapped around the crooked finger of one Tom Riddle and he doesn’t even know it. 

Blaise doesn’t think Tom Riddle, that evil fool who learned to love, will ever mean to hurt Harry. But he will hurt him. Sooner or later, it will happen. It will happen because that’s what happens to the people around Tom Riddle. 

So Blaise tries to protect Harry Potter from Tom -- oh, how he tries. And he succeeded. For a little bit. 

Though just not long enough. 

Walking to Charms, side by side with a wolf who has shed his sheep’s clothing, Blaise knows he has failed.He woke up this morning, a feeling of dread and failure already hanging over him, but with Tom’s antics, there are a lot of things to feel dread over.

This?

He did not expect this.

“Harry would hate you,” says Blaise, his shoes and voice echoing in the empty corridor. “If he knew what you’ve done.”

“I know,” says Tom, and to Blaise’s mild surprise there is real remorse there. 

“The recent stuff, too. I mean, really. Hurting the House Elves?” asks Blaise, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s just like hurting him,” says Tom.

“And me?”

“And you. It’s just like hurting you.”

“And that was the goal, wasn’t it? To hurt me?”

“To distract you. It’s the very reason we’re here now.”

Blaise looks behind him. They’re not that far from the Great Hall. “I could run. Cast a shield and tattle.”

Tom doesn’t even entertain the idea. “Look at me. Do you think that would work?”

Blaise looks at his own soul, watching as it retreats into itself. Pre-fear. A warning. Tom’s soul is as strong and stubborn as ever. “No. Your magic would beat mine, one v. one.” The ability to see the future would help. But he would lose. Of course he would lose. Who could ever beat Tom-fucking-Riddle?

Tom grins smugly. “So, we’re here now. There is no avoiding it anymore.”

“I should’ve told Harry the moment I knew what I did,” admits Blaise. He is angry. At Tom, at himself. 

“You should’ve.”

“I shouldn’t have even offered to make a deal.”

“You shouldn’t have. But you did.”

“But I did,” repeats Blaise. “You know, I blamed many people for your infestation.”

“Is that what you call my becoming of Harry’s friend?”

“What better to call it than what it is?”

Tom shrugs, that sly smile still on his lips. 

“I blamed Hermione for telling you you could sit with us. I blame Harry for letting her. I blame Draco Malfoy for making it so you could sit with Harry. I blame you, most of all. For being who you are.”

“And what am I?”

Tainted. “A mushroom. You thrive off the pain and death of others. You reek of it.” He pauses and says, painfully, “But this isn’t all your fault. It’s not all Draco’s, not all Hermione’s. And not all Harry’s. It’s mine. I should have known better. And I did. But I let this happen anyway. I welcome your mushroom of a self into our group.” He sighs heavily and adds, “Yeah. Death. You reek of it. You’re making Harry reek of it, too. Merlin, why, Tom? Why could you have not let him alone? Why him?”

“Because I see him the same way you do,” answers Tom simply. “I see him as something to cherish. To protest.” To own.

“That’s just the problem, then,” says Blaise blankly. “We have very different definitions of cherish, don’t we?”

“We do,” Tom agrees. 

“What will you do to me? What is your plan here, Tom? You’ve figured out some way to shut me up, haven’t you?”

“Lip-lock charm,” responds Tom, twirling his wand between his fingers.

“Ah,” sighs Blaise. “Clever. Because it’s a charm, not a curse, it won’t show up on medical scanners, will it?”

“Exactly. It is humanly impossible to discover.”

“And I won’t be able to talk about you, what you’ve done?”

“What I’ve done, will do. All evil not common knowledge stays hidden.”

“Buried,” says Blaise. “Violently buried, not hidden.”

“Not violently,” corrects Tom. “I’ve seen to that.”
“Have you?”

“Yes. If you try to say things you shouldn’t, you’ll end up saying something else instead. That’s it.”

Blaise considers that. “That’s it, huh? Strange. I heard most lip-lock charms hurt the person in question. Headaches. Sharp jabs in the gut.”

“Yes, well, I know Harry would not want you hurt.”

It’s almost funny. “Harry brings out the best in you.” And the worst. 

Tom shrugs.

“Before you do this--” and he will do it soon, far too soon. They’re almost at Charms. “--can I warn you of something?”

“Warn me?” Tom laughs. “How generous.”

“I am serious.”

“Then I’ll humor you. Go ahead.”

“What you’re trying to achieve with this…” it is Blaise’s turn to smile, “It’s not going to work.”

Tom doesn’t falter but… but he knows, perhaps, that he should. “No?” asks Tom. 

“You want him.”

“So do you.”

“I have him,” says Blaise. Tom feels a pang of jealousy and his magic sparks around them, an electric could. You dare doubt me? You are insane. (Or maybe I am.) “But not entirely.”

This has Tom frowning, finally. “Because he has Neville?”

“Yes. And no. Because Harry can’t be had.” Blaise shakes his head in something like pity and Tom hates him for it. “Harry’s not like your followers. You can’t own him.”

You don’t know that. You know nothing. “I do not want that,” says Tom and it is a lie, of course it is. “I want to be his equal.”

“I don’t buy that.”

“I want to settle for equals,” amends Tom.

“And do you buy that? Settling doesn’t suit you, Tom.” Tom grips his wand with white knuckles because he’s right. He doesn’t settle. Harry is shared and Tom doesn’t share. “What you’re after? You won’t get it, Tom.”

“So what do I am, huh?” snaps Tom. “What the hell am I supposed to do instead?”

“Give up,” supplies Blaise. “Give up, while you’re still ahead.” But Tom’s not ahead anymore. He is in too deep. He’s just like Blaise now; half himself, half Harry. There’s no going back anymore. That bridge was burned long ago.

“Giving up doesn’t suit me, either.”

“I know,” says Blaise quietly. “But if there is any time to change your mind, it is now.” And isn’t Tom ‘into that’ now? Changing? He’s been doing it a lot lately. 

But he won’t be doing it here. Not now. That would be a change for himself and he doesn’t do that, does he? 

Yeah. No. He changes for Harry. He changes because of Harry.

And Harry’s not here right now.

They both stop in front of the charms classroom. Tom casts the lip-lock charm and neither of them says anything more.

Blaise opens the door.

It is time for class.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“My master is obsessed,” hisses Nagini, curling up beside Bertha.

“He’s obsessed with all the wrong things, I tell you what.”

“What would you rather him be obsessed with?”

“Getting me out of here,” replies Bertha. “Being better to you.”

Nagini says nothing but whispers after a while: “I can’t believe it is a mere boy that bought his affections. Him, and not me.” Was she not there for him years before this Harry ever was? Was she not a constant; his constant? She loved him. Why is it now her fault he rejected that?

“It’s not fair,” soothes Bertha. She thinks that romance is sappy and gross and, quite frankly, a waste of time. But she gets it, sort of. Or she can tolerate it. Because it’s Nagini. It’s Nagini, and she sort of doesn’t really have anyone else right now. “I know it is not fair.”

“I worry,” admits Nagini.

“About what?”

“About the object of his obsession.”

“Are you right to?”

“To worry? Yes. I worry greatly.”

“Well,” says Bertha, coiling tighter around Nagini. “You’re not always right. You might not be this time, eh?”

She gets no response.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Harry sits beside Blaise during charms. Something is wrong. When asked what, he just shakes his head. “Talking about it won’t fix it,” he says simply. Talking about it is something I can no longer do. 

“That’s not always the reason people talk about things,” responds Harry. 

“Whatever the reasons are, they don’t apply to me.”

“And if they do?”

“They don’t. They won’t.”

“Should I be concerned?”

Harry. You should be over your head in worry. You should be panicking because panic is the only valid emotion to feel right now. When he doesn’t get what he wants, what will Tom do? Will he hurt you? Merlin. Merlin, I need you. I need to be able to talk to you. My thoughts are yours and without that bondage, I’m lost.

I cannot do this alone.

I have to.

“No, Harry,” says Blaise. “You shouldn’t be concerned at all.”